


Definitely Not

by Septembers_coda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Light Bondage, Season/Series 10, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septembers_coda/pseuds/Septembers_coda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <b><a href="http://spn-bunker.livejournal.com/175780.html%20">S10 Comment Fic Meme</a> </b> at LiveJournal's spn_bunker <b><a href="http://spn-bunker.livejournal.com/170765.html%20"> WoL Wednesday</a> </b> to satisfy kalliel’s simple desire for Sam/Rowena, which I shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not

Sam peers at the face hidden under the glorious, tumbled fall of fiery locks, holding on to his cold, dismissive rage as tightly as he holds the demon-knife. “Not gonna wait much longer, Rowena,” he says, distracted by the way the name feels rolling off his tongue. “If you can’t handle the Codex, it might be time for me to handle you.” 

Shit! Too late to choose better words, Sam winces as Rowena trills perfect Scottish laughter, genuine and ringing. And why should that, somehow, lift his heart? It’s _evil_ laughter, and she’s laughing _at_ him… it’s just been so long since he heard any laughter at all.

“Ooooh, Sam! I thought you’d never ask,” she coos, making eyes at him as she tosses back her curls. She holds up her wrists. “Get these shackles off me and you can… _handle_ me all you want.”

Sam swallows and tries to look threatening, raising the knife. “I’m not fooling around, dammit! If you—” 

“But you _could_ be fooling around, dear,” she interrupts, shifting so the chain of her shackles falls across her body, somehow, even shackled, managing to make her dress drape across her curves to show them at best advantage. “And if you want to discuss terms, a… _friendly_ approach might… grease the wheels a bit?” 

Her coy smile as she edges closer—close enough to touch him, and clearly not worried about the knife at all—well, it undoes something in Sam. What the _hell_ is he thinking? 

“Don’t worry, darling,” she coos, full-on seductress now. “I get what I need, you get what you _clearly_ need… everyone’s happier. Now just get that key out, and let’s make an… arrangement.”

Sam groans inwardly. No. No way. She’s totally evil, and old enough to be his mother— _Crowley’s_ mother!—and…

Damn it. Kind of hot. Kind of like really.

He shakes his head and tugs at the pocket of his jeans self-consciously, glad, for once, that he’s always wearing two layers, and that the longer shirt is buttoned and… long enough. He tries to look irritated (not hard) and nonchalant (harder) as he scrambles to think of a good cutting remark. It’s been far too long since Amelia. He should make time to… make time with a nice woman sometime soon. Definitely not a witch. And definitely not the King of Hell’s mother!

And that is _definitely_ not her hand snaking up the back of his thigh!

But he doesn’t move away, and he sets down the knife. For what feels like the first time in months, or years, he smiles, and leans in. 

There’s no way he’s taking off the shackles, though.

~The End~


End file.
